All This Time
by Starbuck0322
Summary: "We got all these words,can't waste them on another,so I'm straight in a straight line,running back to you" - OneRepublic


**_All This Time_**

_

* * *

__"We've got all these words, can't waste them on another. So I'm straight in a straight line, running back to you." _

_- OneRepublic_

* * *

"Nine thirty."

"Eleven?"

"Ten."

"Midnight?"

"Nine thirty."

"Gillian! Can you help me out here?" Emily crossed her arms, sighing loudly.

Gillian smiled and removed her hands from the dishwater. She picked up the towel beside her and turned to see Cal and Emily looking at her; Cal with his unspoken instructions, Emily with quiet desperation.

"You can't put me in the middle of this, Emily." Gillian said, turning the towel over in her hands. "He's your father."

"But you're the one that has any sense!" Emily huffed, causing her long curls to drape across half of her face.

"Emily," her father interjected. "I know practically nothing about this... this... Adam."

"Dad!" Emily turned to snatch her purse and jacket from a nearby chair. "His name is Andrew, and you've met him like a hundred times."

Cal opened his eyes wide, forehead creasing. "Now I hardly think that's the truth."

Emily said nothing and re-crossed her arms instead. She looked from Gillian to her father, back to Gillian who stood motionless. Jaded, she let her shoulders drop.

"Ten." Cal said, and placed his hand on the island counter top in front of him.

Emily smiled showing clenched teeth. "Ten thirty?"

Cal stepped forward. He looked down his nose at his daughter. "Ten thirty," he said quietly.

Emily smiled reaching up to wrap her arms around her father. They were quiet for a moment. Emily looked out from her father's embrace toward Gillian who smiled at the moment shared in front of her.

Quietly, Emily added, "Eleven?"

Cal pulled from the embrace, taking his daughter's head in his hands. "Don't push it."

They laughed together as Cal bent low to kiss his daughter on the head.

She turned merrily toward the kitchen door. "Night Gillian."

"Night Emily."

"Be good," her father said, more as a warning than instruction.

Cal turned smiling to Gillian who had placed her hands back in the soapy water and was now cleaning a frying pan; she too was smiling.

"You really should go easier on her, you know." Gillian said turning on the kitchen tap to rinse the pan. "It will only make her want to rebel more."

"Oh is that so, Dr. Foster," Cal said picking up a pot from the drying rack. "You really sound like a psychologist sometimes, you know?"

Gillian smiled at him. "Thanks."

They were quiet for a time, both caught in the rhythm of washing, of drying, of the sounds of splashing water, of the clashing of pots and pans she placed in the drying rack.

He looked up at her suddenly, feeling a change in her breathing. Cal focused on her features, on the creases forming on her brow, the soft lines causing her eyes to curl upward.

"What is it?" he asked reaching out to touch her arm.

Gillian shook her head, pulling a tight smile. "Nothing." She pulled her hands from the water, and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. "Thank you for dinner. I had a really nice time."

Cal cocked his head toward her. "What is it?" he insisted.

Gillian looked up, eyes wide. "No way!" She shook a wet finger in his direction. "You're not allowed to read me."

She turned from him; her shoulders raised and placed her hands on the island in front of her.

Cal moved quietly to stand beside her, placing a palm flat against her back.

"Gill..."

She turned her head keeping her gaze low. "I meant what I said. I had a really nice time at dinner."

"So did I, but there's something more isn't there?"

Gillian sighed. Her shoulders lowered. "Damn."

Cal stood beside her waiting patiently, his hand moving steadily on her back, caressing softly.

She turned to him after a time, head bowed low. One hand played with the hem of her blouse.

"I felt like family tonight, Cal." She paused to allow a few tears to escape her. "I guess I forgot how much I missed it."

Cal with his head bowed low tried to reach her, to draw her attention toward him.

"Hey," he said placing a finger to her cheek wiping a tear away. "But you are darling. You mean so much to Em and me." He placed his hand to her chin forcing her to raise her eyes to meet his. "You've always been family."

Gillian's face bunched and twisted as more tears fell. "Oh, Cal."

"Hey now," he said drawing her into his arms. "You, my love, are not alone." A hand to her back, another to the back of her hair, Cal drew her into him tighter and rocked her gently.

He let her cry, let her soft sobs fill the room. Her nails dug into the back of his shirt lightly.

After her breathing subsiding, and the quiet between sobs lengthened, Cal pulled away from her to grab her face.

Their eyes met for only an instant, and it was enough for Cal to see the torment within her, and he silently cursed the sadness that had crept into the rock of a soul that was his Dr. Gillian Foster.

He placed his lips to her cheek and kissed her softly pulling back to lick the saltiness from his lips. He watched as her eyes closed, listened to the uneasy breath that escaped her lips. He brought his lips to rest against her other cheek and placed an identical kiss there.

She leaned into him, pressed her forehead to his and released another sigh. Her breath was warm against his skin and he closed his eyes taking a moment to breathe in her scent.

Her hands smelled of lemon dish soap; her face the smell of the suntan lotion applied earlier that day. She smelled like the air, like the sun; remembrance of their day spent together, walking and talking and sharing close spaces.

And now with their skin pressed against each other, with their breath collecting between them, Cal was hungry to crawl into her to stop the world from spinning.

She reached for his lips as if hearing his thoughts. Their warm breath now mingling with tongues and heat, the saltiness of her tears shared between them.

They explored one another hungrily, hands moving over each other fumbling and as his fingertips reached the skin on her lower back, she pulled from him suddenly, breaking their kiss. Her face flush, pupils wide with hunger, she turned and took a step away from him.

"I should go," was all she said, leaving him behind in the kitchen.

He turned the corner following her into the front hall.

"Thank you for dinner," she added casually without turning, her hand wrapped around the door handle.

"Foster," he called after her. "Don't go."

She released her grip on the door and turned; her shoulders raised, a nervous smile spread across her lips.

"Cal, I can't."

"You can't?"

"We can't. We shouldn't."

"You don't honestly believe that."

She took a step toward him and he followed suit edging nearer to her.

His head cocked toward her as he searched her eyes; watched as her fingers flicked against her leg. He smiled wryly.

She shivered as a wave of uneasiness traced across her shoulders. She felt exposed in front of him.

"What?"

He shook his finger at her and stepped closer. "Your lips darling' are saying one thing, but this..." He leaned back motioning over her body with his hands. "This is telling me something completely different."

She placed a hand on her hip. "What did I tell you about reading me?"

"Not to do it."

"Well?"

"Gillian," he smiled again. "Sweetheart, you don't have to be a reader in order to see what I'm seeing." He reached out with warm hands, trailing his fingers across her waist, lifting her shirt, placing his fingertips against the skin on her lower back again.

She cleared her throat quietly and raised her eyebrows. "And what is it that you're seeing?"

He brought his face close enough to feel her breath on his skin again. He inhaled.

"I see desire, lust, and of course curiosity." He took her lips with his own again, and they met with furry, their passion hungrier this time.

"I'm curious?" she asked continuing their mingling of tongues. "About what?"

He pulled away to search her face, breathing heavily. "If I'm really as good as you think I am."

She did not pull away from him this time, did not desist, even when his hands reached to the front of her blouse to make short work of its buttons.

Pressed tightly to him, she could feel the heat rising within him causing her to ache toward him. Her lips, her cheeks now burned from rubbing against his scruff, but she welcomed the sensation; the numbness it caused.

Their passionate fury continued down the hall to his bedroom; Cal careful to keep their discarded clothing within the confines of his room. He led her to his bed, laying her down.

He ached to fall into her, to climb, to writhe, but his passion was growing too quickly within him, and he needed to remain focussed.

A vision in lavender satin in front of him, he shook himself from his desires to look at her; to take her in.

She was chilled without his heat pressed against her and felt weightless and airy; abandoned.

She reached for him, pulling him down and their flesh met again; this time a stickiness to it. Enticed by a unfamiliar weight above her, her hands searched his body and pressed into him gently. She felt the moan rise within him, running along his body to escape his lips, causing him to drop his weight further into her.

"I want you," she said into his ear in a voice he was unfamiliar with. She was sultry, passionate; she was hungry.

He couldn't help the wide smile that came to his lips.

"Oh darling," he confessed. "I'm 'bout ready to devour you."

Her fingers moved skilfully against him and she met him with her palm. He found her lips, his hips moving above her, wanting so badly to melt into her own.

"Gillian." Her name released as easily as breath.

At the mention of her name, she slowed her movement, careful now in her task. It was all he could do to look up at her. He watched as she bit her lip; eyes sultry, her lips full and pouty. Meeting his eyes, realisation stirring, she looked away from him.

"All right darling," he said taking her hand from her skilled work. "I think you've just about proven your point and we're getting everywhere way too fast."

He gently slid her silk panties from her hips, lowering them slowly down her legs. He placed his hands to her lower back and lifted her up to straddle him.

She allowed him to lift her, letting him wrap her legs around him. She shifted, feeling his heaviness beneath her.

She fought to look away from him and he chased her with his eyes. "Look at me," he instructed and kissed her neck, letting his tongue trace a line to her earlobe. Again, he attempted to reach her gaze and again, she looked from him.

"Gillian," he said softly. "Look at me."

She could hear the urgency in his tone; the underlying desire behind his words. So she bit, and met him, let him look into her.

The heaviness of his passion pressed against her with urgency but he paused in his motions taken with what he saw within her.

Naked, bare emotion, and heavy breathing shared, he shook his head slightly and took her lips passionately. She writhed and shifted her weight to align her body with his. He slid a hand between her legs, causing her to look at him, eyes wide with intensity.

"Keep your eyes on mine." He saw her smile nervously. "Trust me love. Right on mine."

He saw her give in and pressed into her swiftly, causing her back to arch, her finger nails to dig into his shoulders. He remained still, their bodies locked together; sticky sweat binding them. The moment seemed to last forever, and he saw every truth within her and for the first time, he too let someone in. His heart skipped a beat; a nervous twinge grasped at his middle. This was intimacy.

She was the first to move as she took control, determining the pace. And when the lines on her face changed, he quickened or slowed, rocking her further toward pleasure. With each compulsion she moaned his name and he'd have to grab her face to hold her gaze. And when the tears streamed down her face, she did not try to hide them.

Drained of resistance, the compulsion ran thick and he grasped the back of her neck, clinging to her tightly. They stayed like that until their heavy breathing subsided; their skin cooled, a chill ran across her shoulders.

Reluctant, he pulled from her and grabbed the blankets wrapping them together, their legs entwined.

Her eyes closed, she pressed her forehead to his chest and breathed softly.

Finally, Cal was the first to break the silence.

"Should we discuss this?" he questioned.

"Discuss what?"

"What you're so afraid of."

She let out a groan and looked up at him. "You really can't stop reading can you?" She attempted to pull from him but he only held her tighter.

"I won't hurt you, Gillian." He leaned down to kiss her nose, instantly calming her. "I can't. I won't."

She stared back at him amazed by his ability to see her so clearly; yet again.

"Your ex was a schmuck, Gill. A complete and total schmuck." He ran a hand up her back, and shifted down the bed to meet her face-to-face. "And I'm not a schmuck. I might be flawed. But I'm no schmuck."

She smiled as he kissed her.

"I know," she confessed.

He sighed and kissed her nose again. "It's always been you love. All this time.

-fin


End file.
